Millennium - Operation Barbarossa's Vendetta
by Gaon
Summary: A few months before the Major's great war can begin, the cream of the crop of the Millennium Organization - Tubalcain Alhambra, Rip Van Winkle, The Valentine Brothers and Zorin Blitz - must complete a mission together: to crush Russa to pieces! Bloody Shenanigians ensue. Prequel.
1. Chapter 1 - War Over Moonlight

Chapter I – War Over Moonlight

...

"Look at ze moon, herr doktor. Beautiful, is it not?" Said the Major, his eyes looking through the window, lost in the night skies, wandering in his memory from battle to battle as the memories of the past flowed to his mind. Memories of glory and victory, of war and slaughter, of unparalleled...beauty. As his Major raved in a symphony of massacre and madness, the Doctor followed his gaze to the moon. To the Doctor the moon looked pretty, but not as ecstatic as the Major described. "Bright like an atomic bomb, spreading its deadly light across the battlefield!" The Major continued.

The Doctor shrugged "Yes, Major, I suppose it is." In an attempt to bring the Major back to more mundane affairs, the Doctor commented "Major, the five have arrived."

"Oh yes, the five." The Major's eyes slowly unfocused off the moon and returned to Earth. His mind attempted to recollect the conversation he was having just now "...Tell me Doctor, why did I fetch for them again?"

The Doctor sighed to himself "Operation Barbarossa's Vendetta, Sir?"

"Ah, but of course!" The Major's eyes acquired a new gleam of delight. Murderous delight. "Report for duty, glorious officers of Millenium, united for the single-minded purpose of war!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, echoing through the iron walls of his zeppelin.

"Tubalcain Alhambra, reporting for duty, my Major." Taking a bow a man clad in a suit said, a mischievous smile on his face and a deck of poker in his palm, his tone was swaggering and cool-headed.

"Rip van Winkle, reporting for duty." Next to Alhambra a woman in a blue suit with a musket resting on her shoulder, grinning naively with a natural warmth to her voice.

"Luke Valentine, reporting for duty." Said a gallant man in a white suit with a knife in his hand, nodding with his head in respect. "Jan Valentine reporting for FUCKING duty, my man Major!" Right after sounded out another in a blue uniform a smiling man with a lunatic grin. Luke stared disappointed at Jan, who merely grinned even more.

At last, a titanic one-eyed woman carrying a scythe sounded. "Zorin Blitz, reporting for duty." She said in a deep baritone with all the seriousness possible.

The Major looked at all five and smiled to himself, his glasses shining against the moonlight.

"Doctor, turn off the lights." Asked the Major ecstatic. The Doctor looked at him strangely, but complied. And so the lights were turned off. The full moon cast its sole light upon the Major and all five of them, giving a dim silver aura to the otherwise immersed in darkness room. "A sparkle of light in the dark! That is what we are! That is what you are! We shall spread our guiding light is war upon the darkness of peace! our moonlight will be the flash of gunfire!" He cackled "Look at you, my mighty warriors! Glorious in all regards!"

Rip van Winkle looked at her Major with respect and pride, Luke courteously bowed to such high praise, Zorin remained stoic and unemotional, while Jan and Alhambra didn't think much of his words. "He's still going." Alhambra looked at the insane Major with a smile, "He really doesn't know when to shut up, does he?" He whispered to Jan.

"He's a nazi, what did you expect, man?" Jan shrugged. "I'm surprised how he isn't playing Wagner in the background or some shit."

"Be silent!" Growled Zorin to both Alhambra and Jan. Alhambra smiled pleased with himself, while Jan gave her the middle finger. Zorin sighed in restrained rage and turned her attention back to the Major, who was still making a grand speech without noticing Alhambra or Jan's commentaries.

"But enough of poetry, my warriors of Millennium! I summoned you here with a purpose." The Major finally concluded. "I have a mission for you." With a snap of his fingers he commanded the Doctor to press a button. The lights came back on, and the television screens of the zeppelin all simultaneously came online, in a blank screen.

"Oh so this IS going somewhere." Alhambra commented in a mocking tone, "I was about to wonder if we were here just to watch him chew the scenery."

Jan laughed to himself, earning another disapproving stare from Luke. "Be professional for once, Jan."

"One more word and I'll turn you into mincemeat." Zorin gripped her scythe.

"No need to disguise your feelings for me in the form of violence, love." Responded Alhambra, grinning. Zorin puffed in rage, but contained herself, while Alhambra's smile expanded.

Rip van Winkle, for the first time taking her eyes off the Major, simply eye rolled "Children."

"My soldiers of Millennium!" Said The Major, once again, paying no heed. This line drew their attentions to him once again. The televisions screens behind him shifted to display a Soviet Union flag. The Major clasped his hands and rested his chin upon it, as lights turned his glasses bright "I am quite sure you remember Operation Barbarossa. The red symphony of death and slaughter by my glorious Fuhrer that struck fear, lead and horror in the heart and soul of Russia! This devil's orchestra, this melody of lost souls, proceeded for the remainder of the war until millions had perished. Oh it was beautiful, my heralds of Millennium! It. Was. BEAUTIFUL!" He cried out rejoiced, "But...all good things must come to an end. And so ended this beautiful war alongside herr Fuhrer's dream. What a tragedy, what a tragedy." The Major shook his head solemnly for a few seconds before returning to a more bombastic tone "But! As the Last Battalion, it it our duty, nay, our DESTINY to revive this glorious war from its ashes! The five of you will strike deep in the heart of Russia, burn the countryside to a crisp."

"Understood." Said Zorin, for the first time unfolding a sadistic smile. "Where do we start, my Major?"

The screens behind the Major shifted pictures to reveal a picture of a massively built Church, as red as the blood the Major so adored, towering over Moscow, rising to the sky imposingly, "Strike at Saint Basil's Cathedral! Headquarters of the Warriors of Nikolai, the Eastern Orthodox equivalent of the Catholic dogs of Iscariot. Fortunately for our purposes, the Communist regime weakened their forces nearly to nothing. Only one base remains. Much like ourselves, they are the Last Battalion of their regime." The Major grinned sadistically. "Relieve them of such burden."

"So we get there, kill the fuckers, and then what?" Asked Jan.

"Ah, that should be more than enough, Valentine. Without the Warriors of Nikolai Russia will be ripe for the taking! The flames of war will burn even higher than they did fifty years ago! This is the time, this is the place, the time for a vengeance upon the Russian insects! Let Operation Barbarossa's Vendetta commence! Sieg Heil!"

"Sieg Heil!" All five of them raised their arms and saluted, some, such as Zorin and Rip, more enthusiastically than others, such as Alhambra and Jan. And so, just like that, Moscow's fate was sealed. The Last Battalion's finest five turned around and left the room, now hellbent on their new task. The Major watched them as they left, pleased with himself. Once more he turned to the moonlight behind him and rejoiced, for he knew that the time of his glorious war drew ever nearer. But before every war, every conflict, there must be a war game, in the grand Wehrmacht tradition. And this was the Major's war game; to do what Hitler failed to do fifty years before: to crush Russia in a single stroke.

"Do you really think they will succeed, herr Major?" Questioned the Doctor, uneasy with the situation.

"I am sure of it, Doctor." Answered the Major with diametrically opposed confidence, "These five are the Devil's Virtuosos. Their fate is not to die here, against Russian dogs. Their deaths will only come later, my Doctor, against a much bigger hound." He reflected over this subject with a warm smile.

…

The Zeppelin changed directions and turned to Russia, the iron machine cruised at terrifying speed towards the Russian land as the five took their positions at the bridge of the ship, looking at the sky in front of them. A zeppelin crewed entirely by five soldiers, an entire invasion force composed of five soldiers. Absurd in all regards, but then again, Millennium's absurdity was its greatest strength, and there was nothing more absurd than making a crew of five people who hated each other invade a foreign country.

"Time estimation to reach Russia?" Politely asked Luke to Zorin, who was currently guiding the airship.

Zorin answered calmly "Four hours."

"Thank you, ." Said Luke, putting his hands in his pockets and attempting to relax as he looked at the horizon.

His brother disagreed. "Four fucking hours!? That's longer than even fucking Lord of the Rings, bitch, you high?" Protested Jan, "We could at least have brought some bitches and blow to make the trip less of a pain in the ass!"

"Please, stop." With annoyance in his voice said Luke, "Your attitude will still put is in jeopardy one day of those."

"Well it ain't that fucking day, alright?" Counter-argued Jan, "Eh fuck this, I'll be in my bunk."

Jan left the room and Luke sighed to himself, leaning against one of the iron walls. "When will he ever grow up?"

"Oh come now, man has a point, Luke!" Cackled Alhambra with legs crossed over the command panel of the Zeppelin, shuffling his poker deck over and over. "A zeppelin trip like this is no fun without some entertainment!"

Luke sighed once again, wondering if he was destined to be surrounded by idiots. "And what would you suggest, Mr. Alhambra?"

"Perhaps we could even play a bit of poker!" He looked at Luke with his trademark mischievous grin, the one that would warn any person in a thousand miles radius that this is one man who'll steal your wallet, your watch and your dog if he gets a chance to. "Which of course, is only fun when there's a wager. What do you think, Van Winkle?" He chuckled.

Rip Van Winkle was in a corner of the room with her musket across her shoulders, humming the rhythm of some German opera Alhambra couldn't identify. Humming that rhythm she proceeded, refusing to listen to any outside noise, as if stuck in her own mental world of slaughter and massacre, with a toothy smile painted on her face. "Tinker-tailor, soldier-sailor, my bullet punishes all without distinction." She repeated in between the humming.

"Well...guess not." Alhambra shrugged at the oddness of Ms. Winkle, "Maybe you, Zorin? Up for some gambling before battle? I'm sure even a brutish simpleton like you could understand the basics of poker."

"If one more word comes pouring out of your mouth I will ignore the Major's orders and disembowel you." Said Zorin in restrained rage, a recurring emotion when it came to dealing with Alhambra.

Alhambra continued to smile confidently. "Guess it's just you and me, Luke." He turned his eyes to him in a challenging tone.

"I never said I would play with you, Mr. Alhambra." A bored Luke stated, unamused by his antics. "I am a professional, and professionals do not gamble, gambling implies the possibility of losing." He boasted with a smile.

"That smells of cowardice to me, Luke. Are you not the fabled Luke Valentine, who'll one day claim the life of Alucard?" Teased Alhambra, chuckling, "If you can't even win at poker, how do you expect to win against Alucard?"

Luke Valentine's facade of politeness and professionalism dropped like a sack of rotten potatoes. "Shut your trap you Brazilian dog!" He pulled out his knife and gritted his teeth.

Alhambra shuffled his cards even faster and said with malice "Oooh, touchy subject? Cowardice usually is!"

"Oh come on, boys, don't ruin poor Zorin's ship! It's bad for business!" Said Rip Van Winkle in a childish voice, waking up of her seemingly eternal loop of German opera songs. "You boys can sure handle a short trip without committing murder to one another can you not? Remember, the Major would burn you all to a crisp if you stepped out of the line!" Winkle stated with a strange glee before switching to a darker, threatening tone "Besides, even if he didn't, always remember, Herr Alhambra and Herr Valentine: Tinker-tailor, soldier-sailor, my bullet punishes all without distinction."

Valentine looked at her in impotent rage, while Alhambra kept grinning. Luke contained his rage and guarded his knife, returning to his collected self. "Maggots like you are not worth my blade."

He turned and left the room.

"Well that was anti-climatic." He continued shuffling his deck, "I was expecting something fun to happen here."

"As your superior, I am commanding you to shut up until we reach Moscow." Zorin Blitz, as always seething with rage, ordered.

"Not a single word more." Alhambra, satisfied with himself, crossed his arms behind his neck.

The trip proceeded without further hassle across the peaceful night skies, except for Zorin's increasing annoyance as Alhambra's compulsive deck shuffling which he somehow managed to keep up for the entire four-hours trip without missing a beat.

"Attention, we are about to enter Russian air space." Announced Zorin in the ship's sound systems, "All gather in the zeppelin's command room for further orders."

"Attention, you are entering Russian air space." A Russian voice sounded out in the zeppelin's speakers right on cue. "Identify yourself or be destroyed."

"If it ain't the motherfucking cavalry!" Jan Valentine cocked his absolutely titanic, howitzer-like machine guns as he entered the room, followed by a silent and calm as usual Luke Valentine, knife in hand. The five looked through the windows and saw, in the horizon, two jets approaching them.

"Tinker-tailor, soldier-sailor, my bullet punishes all without distinction!" Rip Van Winkle prepared her musket and aimed at them.

"Bitch is that the only phrase you know? Change the record, Jeez!" Said Jan Valentine with a sigh, but Winkle paid no attention. Alhambra chuckled at this comment warmly.

"What's our plan of operation, Ms. Blitz?" Asked Luke Valentine.

"The four of you will go atop the zeppelin. Protect it en-route to Moscow, take down anything that comes close. You'll receive further orders when we get there." The strict Zorin Blitz commanded. "Blast them out of the sky!" With a more bloodthirsty tone she cried out.

Winkle paid continence, Luke bowed, Alhambra smiled once again and Jan cackled as they followed to the zeppelin's top. And there the four stood, their hairs flowing against the freezing winds of the Russian pitch-black night skies, a coldness that could only match the coldness of their hearts. Winkle looked at the ships with a shark-like smile, hungry for their blood. Alhambra was as swaggering as ever, Luke maintained a serious face of professionalism, Jan a bloodthirsty, resounding laughter. Their job was about to begin.


	2. Chapter II - Army Of Five

Chapter II – Army Of Five

….

Alhambra flicked his entire deck of cards out of the zeppelin at a lightning speed, and they flew across the wind, multiplied from a few dozen cards to hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions of cards, and then they formed a ring-shaped shield around the airship. The jets fired a barrage of fearsome missiles, "Your turn, Ms. Winkle." Announced Alhambra.

Winkle took aim and fired a single bullet. A blue ray crossed the skies and took down one of the jets as its missiles clashed against Alhambra's cards, unleashing a fiery explosions that was nonetheless entirely blocked by Alhambra's cards.

"We need reinforcements, now!" The other Russian announced via radio as he saw the bullet zigzag mid-air and turn directions to hit him. A second later his jet was shot down in flames by Winkle's bullet.

"Bulls eye." Ms. Winkle's grin expanded across her face, becoming even more toothy.

"That is what I call being dealt a shitty hand." Alhambra chuckled mockingly.

"And we get to sit and watch? Oh for fuck's sake!" Jan Valentine screamed disappointed.

"Patience, Jan. Our time for action will come in due time." Luke calmed down his brother, still serene as ever. Luke looked down, and saw a few small villages directly underneath them. "And due time seems to be now. Aim for the villages, Jan."

"Now we're talking!" Jan gladly pointed his massive guns downwards, and fired. They worked essentially as artillery fire: Entire cities were butchered from up above, houses destroyed, buildings collapsed, a rain of gunfire coming from up above that painted a trail of blood across the Russian countryside all the way up to Moscow. The human losses added hundreds and more hundreds by each passing minute, creating a giant bonfire that set the darkest Russian night ablaze with the light of a thousand innocents burning and screaming in agony.

The zeppelin continued its journey through the air, picking up speed and more speed as cities were reduced to rubble beneath them. Many more jets came, and all of them were shot down by Winkle while their missiles were blocked by Alhambra. Jet by jet the Russian Air force was slowly whittled down from thousands to dozens.

…

Meanwhile, at a Russian Air Force base.

"This is impossible!" A Russian Commander looked at the radar screen incredulously, "How is one vehicle taking down our entire air force!? It's inconceivable!"

"Sir, they are approaching Moscow." One of his clerks commented looking at the screen, "They are picking up speed and fast, they'll be there within half an hour or less!"

"Where's the blasted army support?" The commander asked in rage.

"There is no time to mobilize the army in time to intercept the zeppelin, Sir." The clerk analyzed the situation. "And we haven't been able to contact half of our bases. It's as if they're all dead."

"Then tell all available forces to head directly to Moscow, tell them to override all protocols, this is an emergency situation! A foreign army is invading, we can't allow Moscow to fall into their hands!"

"What of our air force, Sir?"

"Send them all!" The commander shouted atop of his lungs. "Send these blasted cykas to the bottoms of Hell!"

"Yes, Sir." The clerk relayed his orders faithfully.

…

"Is this it? Is this all that the proud motherland has for us? How disappointing!" Alhambra looked at the burning jets falling downwards in the air, clashing against the floor in a fiery spectacle. "I truly expected more!"

As if on cue, Alhambra saw a wall of missiles forming in the horizon. Their trail of smoke covered the entire line of sight in the horizon, from the far left to the far right, no sky could be seen, only missiles rapidly advancing in a barrage of missiles, implacable, unstoppable, fearsome blocking all the sky and all the sight that came across them. Behind them an equally extensive line of gray jets, like masters waiting for their hounds to finish their hunt: The combined might of the remainder of the Russian Air Force all brought to bear simultaneously.

"Too soon." Alhambra was suitably impressed by the sight of a million missiles, all aligned side-by-side, blocking his horizon. He stopped smiling and stared at it in awe.

"Holy shit." Jan said upon witnessing that sight. Luke was in stunned silence. Winkle's smile dropped and she looked concerned for the first time. "Its...it's so beautiful." She stared at the death blaze like one would stare at a masterpiece.

But only momentarily. Alhambra soon returned to grinning. "Ah this is going to be fun!" Laughed the Dandy Man as he pulled out two other decks, Winkle's toothy smile emerged again as she cocked her gun, Jan laughed out loud and pointed his massive guns towards them, Luke retained his collected confidence.

"Gentlemen, it's been a pain in my ass to work with you!" Said Alhambra in a fake honorable tone.

"Likewise!" Promptly answered Luke.

Meanwhile, directly them, Zorin Blitz conducted the zeppelin unfailingly. Taking a glance at the approaching air fleet, she raised her right arm, which is was filled with tattoos up to the right side of her head, and suddenly, a third eye opened in her palm. From that arm flowed several thousands of tattoo markings that flowed amidst the iron walls and soon reached the air outside. The markings flew like a swarm across the distance between the zeppelin and the Russian Air Force, causing a terrifyingly impressive sight.

"Ah, it seems our commander has finally decided to join the fight, eh?" Alhambra chuckled to himself, "Well, let's not keep her waiting my friends!" And with that phrase, all four of them unleashed their attacks: Jan Valentine fired his gun, Winkle unloaded her musket, and Alhambra tossed his entire deck towards the oncoming storm of missiles. Luke Valentine backed up the most he could, and took off in supersonic speed, leaping off the zeppelin, directly behind the combined attacks of his teammates.

From a distance, it all seemed like a cavalry charge of two opposing armies. In one side, the pride of the Russian Air Force and all their most powerful missiles fired at a single moment, in the other, magic cards, magic bullets, regular bullets from a massive gun, a magic spell of tattoo markings and a single man leaping across the air. Two metaphorical cavalry charges about to clash mid-air in a sight that would never be seen again.

They clashed.

For a moment, the moon and the stars were blotted out by a biblical clout of fire and smoke of the combined attacks and only darkness existed, only darkness reigned in the land. The pilots couldn't see anything beyond the wall of fire and smoke, piercing both fire and smoke like spears, razor sharp magic cards came, shredding jets apart. Rightly followed by an array of blue rays that zigzagged across the air, taking down one jet and then turning directions to pierce the other and send it to a fiery grave. A more standard gunfire came from Jan Valentine, but no less deadly, and it sent Russian pilots to their graves. Then, a single man emerged from the smoke, Luke Valentine leaping across the air.

He landed in the back of one of the Russian jets and bisected it with a single movement of his knife. In supersonic speed, faster than what the human eye could even conceive, he ran out, leaping from jet to jet, leaving a trail of broken metal and fiery death behind him. Only a fraction of the platoon remained, and they were soon hit by Zorin's spell of tattoo markings. Their planes swarmed by them, and soon their minds also swarmed by them. Their minds now belonged only to Zorin Blitz.

They looked around, and no longer saw Russian jets, but instead they saw the enemy in each and every single one of them, warped by Zorin's illusions. They fired at themselves with such haste and terror that within seconds, they were no more. The entire Russian Air Force was no more.

…

"MAGNIFICENT!" Watching it all, far away in his zeppelin, The Major screamed and cried out in joy, clapping in the dark, his heart, his soul, his very being compelled by the drums of war and the magnificent spectacle of slaughter and disaster that he saw in that battle. "Barbarossa's Vendetta is nearly finished! See, Doctor? Those are the men we are using! Fine soldiers!"

"In-indeed, Major." The Doctor looked at the screen astonished, shocked, stunned by the sheer scale of that battle. If this was the Major's war game, what could possibly be the Major's actual war?

….

"Se Fudeu." Said Alhambra, shuffling a brand new deck of cards in his hand very calmly. "That was easier than I expected."

"Do not brag, Mr. Alhambra. Our job is far from finished." Luke Valentine landed in the zeppelin unharmed, and his suit remained as impeccable as always. In the horizon Zorin's tattoos returned to her arm.

"Tinker-tailor, soldier-sailor, my bullet punishes all without distinction!" Winkle stood up and rested her musket against her shoulder, proud of herself, the shark smile returning to a more human one, almost childish like. "All for you, Herr Major! Sieg Heil!" She hailed to the nothing and no one batted an eye. Such were Winkle's usual habits.

"I'm so fucking hard right now you guys couldn't fucking believe it." Jan let his guns down, surrounded by bullet cartridges. "That was the best thing ever."

Suddenly they saw, ghastly approaching in the horizon, great lights of a great city. Standing mightily atop the lights their targets: St. Basil's Cathedral, as red as expected, as imposing as expected. In the air a sound struck fear in the population of Moscow, the noise that usually precipitated an air raid. The civilians, entire families, fled to their homes and sought shelter the best they could from the oncoming terror. The foreign army composed of five individuals.


	3. Chapter III - Moscow Bonfire

Took me a while, but it's finally here, the final piece of the Operation Barbarossa's Vendetta. A short fic, but I hope all readers had a fun time reading it, I surely did!

...

In the ground, hundreds of soldiers, the best that could be acquired with such short notice, stood terrified, having had no time to set any kind of anti-air weaponry, maybe due lack of time, maybe due incompetence. This was for the ages to judge. To them there was nothing left but to stand their ground and protect their nation's capital, which they were ready to do, despite their fear.

But in St. Basil's Cathedral, fear had no place. The Warriors of Nikolai stood in a single line, all of them in the black cloth, with a golden cross hanging from their necks, a fez on each of their heads, a staff in their left hands and a sword in their right.

In front of them stood two men, two twins, freakishly tall and freakishly strong, with a long flowing beard that reached their waists. Identical in most regards, except for the weapons they had at their back: One had a giant sickle and one had a hammer, and the scars in their face (the sickle one had a scar in his right eye, the hammer one had a scar in his left eye) "Brother Molotok, we are doomed, we are not?" Asked the one with a sickle with a smile on his face.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Brother Serpovidno!" Molotok grinned a warrior's smile, his brother nodded and smiled in agreement. They knew their Order was condemned, but they longed for one last fight for a long, long time. At last God heard them.

"Men!" Molotok cried out to the Warriors of Nikolai behind him "We stand here, gazing at the oncoming storm, as the last of our proud Order! The Warriors of Nikolai, The valiant hearts who fought against all manner of heretic or beast from Hell for hundreds of years! I tell you, my Brothers, that our death is certain in this very night. That the Warriors of Nikolai will fade, to be scattered in the winds like ash from a funeral pyre! But I tell you, my brothers: Fade away like Russians! Fade away not like a candle about to be extinguished, but like a great fire, claiming those doomed souls for God's judgement! Make them remember what is Russia, and WHO is Russia and the men who defend it! For one last time in our long history, make them fear our God like no thing upon the face of the planet!"

Alhambra released his playing cards, bombarding the Russian capital with a rain of explosive poker cards, reducing everything to rubble. The Warriors of Nikolai took a step back, causing Brother Molotok to snap out.

"Do not retreat even an inch! Retreat is the sin of Heathens! To Retreat and to run is to condemn your soul to Hell! To die in the last stand of the Warriors of Nikolai is to ascend to Heavens! Stand! Proud! Warriors! Of! Nikolai!" Shouted at the top of his lungs Brother Molotok, before pulling out his massive hammer. His brother followed suit, pulling out his titanic sickle. The men behind him stood firmly in line and did not move an inch more, swords raised in the air and hearts ready to die for God.

Meanwhile, in the zeppelin. Zorin Blitz overlooked the terrified Moscow and smiled in the sadistic glee of a true Millennium loyalist to the heart. She once again raised her right arm, and once again she unleashed a swarm of illusions upon the night. A pillar of purple tattoo markings arose in the skies, like a hurricane of black symbols floating in the air, swirling around itself like a sentient swarm. Then they came down, infecting the minds and souls of every single Russian soldier present in the land. In this confused state they took the Warriors of Nikolai for enemies, and opened full fire at them, as well as charging against them.

"Witch!" Brother Serpovidno spit on the ground in disgust.

"Let us show her how the Eastern Orthodox Church deals with witchcraft, Brother!" Molotok sounded out a wordless war cry and charged, side by side with his sworn brothers who also screamed alongside him, they went forwards, towards the bullets fearlessly, some fell, some stood, but none retreated. The armies clashed, Molotok and Serpovidno in the thick of the battle slaughtering dozens of Russian soldiers with a single swipe of their hammer and sickle, painting the streets of Moscow with blood, casting their mangled bodies upon the battlefield, the brothers were untouchable.

Before their eyes, Millennium's finest five witnessed as the Warriors of Nikolai, outnumbered and outgunned, resisted the combined might of hundreds of soldiers alone, without retreating an inch of ground.

Zorin Blitz furiously landed the zeppelin atop a nearby building and left the airship, alongside the four of the Millennium top squad. "Russian soldiers! They're worse than useless!" Zorin Blitz screamed in agony as she saw her entire brainwashed army trounced by the Warriors of Nikolai.

"You know the old saying, Ms. Blitz, you want something done right, do it yourself." Alhambra shuffled his deck slowly, almost methodically. Zorin nodded to him, waved her scythe and screamed "Kill them ALL!"

Across the scorched roofs of Moscow the five ran towards the battle, bloodthirsty and eager for battle, looking down below and witnessing as Molotok and Serpovidno stood undefeated and unharmed in the battlefield. "Not a very worthy final stand if they don't put up a fight!" Said Molotok as he squashed one of the soldiers with his hammer, "Indeed, my brother!" Answered Serpovidno impaling another with his giant sickle.

Suddenly a single ace of spades broke the air and sliced Molotok's cheek. Taken aback in surprise, he looked above, and saw Alhambra standing atop a nearby building. "Finally! Come down here and fight like a man, coward!" Shouted Molotok.

Alhambra cracked his neck "As you wish." He then vanished.

In the blink of an eye an explosion hit Molotok in the face, sending him flying across the air, crashing down against one of the towers of the cathedral. The red tower collapsed over him, burying him under a significant amount of rubble.

Serpovidno barely saw the events unfold, he only saw his brother flying away and Alhambra emerging in his place, out of the thin air. Serpovidno impaled him with his sickle in rage, only to notice Alhambra's body unraveling in a flurry of poker cards. "A trap!" He concluded, right before a explosion launched him forwards, and as he was down, a circle of cards appeared around him and exploded. He stood up, heavily wounded, but still standing proud.

From the sky dropped Zorin Blitz, scythe in hand and murder in her eyes, with a cigarette in her mouth, breathing out smoke like a dragon about to spit fire. She raised her scythe and invested herself upon Serpovidno, slash after slash, hit after hit being parried by his sickle. Sparks flew as the iron clashed, the two evenly matched in the battlefield.

Alhambra calmly watched from the same building Molotok saw him with his hands in his pocket "I almost thought you two were going to be a challenge!" He turned his back on the battle and walked away. Suddenly a giant hammer almost smashed him to atoms, if not for his extremely fast reflexes.

Alhambra looked up in surprise, only to see Molotok landing in the building and picking up his hammer. "Warriors of Nikolai do not die so easily."

"Well, it looks like this won't be as easy as I thought." He smiled with the usual malice and mischief that characterized him, they stood up and prepared to face one another. Alhambra flicked a card at the time as he backed away, and Molotok smashed each explosive card with his hammer mid-air, advancing relentlessly upon Alhambra.

In the distance Ms. Winkle aimed her musket and fired a shot, the bullet crossed several of the houses and buildings ablaze of Moscow towards her target, Molotok. The bullet pierced through both of his legs, and he fell to his knees, screaming in pain. The bullet zigzagged in the air and prepared to head-shot him. Molotok's massive fist closed around the bullet, and with inhuman strength he crushed it in his palm. "Not so easily." He repeated, glancing at Alhambra.

Ms Winkle gasped in shock and fired another shot in desperation, Molotok glanced at the oncoming bullet and struck it with his massive hammer, sending the bullet flying back in the opposite direction.

By the time Rip von Winkle saw what was happening, it was too late, and her chest was pierced by her own bullet. She stumbled backwards, bleeding through her suit, and collapsed into the floor behind her, blood spreading in her lungs.

"I see you are more than meets the eye, Mister Molotok." Alhambra chuckled as the fire embers of the great Moscow fire surrounded them, like snow of a kind winter, setting the mood of their clash. "I must admit the Winkle woman was very quick on the trigger, however." He said, glancing at his pierced legs. "This shouldn't be a very fight fair at all. Then again, I have always been known to cheat." He prepared one last shuffle.

Meanwhile, in the battlefield below, Jan shred apart several Warriors of Nikolai with his gun, leading the brainwashed Russian soldiers. "Fuck them in their asses!" Was his vulgar war cry as he emptied his semiautomatic machine guns in the bodies of these warrior monks of Moscow. "Fuck them in their asses!" He repeated, laughing sadistically. Alongside him an invisible force slashed its way through swathes of Russian soldiers, leaving a bloody trail on its path, before stopping briefly to recollect his thoughts: Luke Valentine. As he looked around he couldn't help but wonder how none of those weaklings offered him a challenge. Only Alucard could. Only Alucard. His destined nemesis.

"You assist Zorin, I'll assist Alhambra." Ordered Luke, vanishing in high speed again.

"Underfuckingstood." Answered Jan.

Next to them the battle between Serpovidno and Zorin raged on and on, sparks and more sparks coming out of the clash of their blades, indefinitely and without winner. But Serpovidno was a cunning veteran, and Zorin a maddened berserker, and this difference was seen when Zorin tried to slash him across the neck, and he simply grabbed the scythe's shaft. "I got you now, Tovarish!" He headbutted Zorin, sending her flying away backwards and crashing into the floor.

Suddenly an array of bullets came towards Serpovidno, and he had to spin his sickle to block them. Jan Valentine reloaded his guns as he commented "Hey, don't go around smacking my bitches like that! I think it's time for you to receive a pimp slap on your bitch face!" Jan fired everything he had. Serpovidno walked towards the bullets, his torso being completely annihilated by the rail of fire, but he did not care and simply kept walking until he closed the distance between them. He impaled Jan with his scythe and raised him up in the air.

"Didn't think this through." Jan smiled as blood ran down the Russian's sickle. With a swipe of his blade he launched the wounded Jan flying in the air.

Zorin stood up again, even more wrathful than before, brandishing her scythe she screamed "I'll have your fucking head for this!" She tossed her scythe at him and he predictably blocked it. Quid Pro Quo. She ran to him, and Serpovidno slashed the air when she dropped to the floor and knelt, picking up her scythe again. Serpovidno struck down and, as she jumped to avoid the hit, impaled her leg, pinning her to the ground. She screamed not in pain but in rage, and with all her combined hatred she pierced his chest with the scythe. He fell to his knees, spitting blood. "Before this year's end, you will be the one without head, witch." Defiantly stated Serpovidno. Removing her scythe, Zorin took another slice and beheaded him.

Meanwhile, atop the building.

Conjuring his last ounce of strength, Molotok stood up with his mangled legs, barely being able to stand in place and prepared one final charge as Alhambra chuckled and waited patiently for this.

But before this could happen Molotok stopped and screamed in pain. Luke's blazing speed came at Molotok all the way from the battlefield and stopped right before Alhambra. Molotok's left arm fell to the ground and blood gushed, but still Molotok stood.

"See how a true vampire kills, Mr. Alhambra." He turned around and went for the killing blow in high speed again, but even though Molotok could not see him, he could still hit him: In a lightning fast sequence, Molotok struck what appeared to be the thin air, but quickly revealed to be Luke Valentine. Lesser men would have exploded with the strength of the hit. Luke Valentine simply had most of his bones cracked in pieces and crashed down on the street.

"I'm very impressed, Mr. Valentine. Baffled, even." Sarcastically said Alhambra, looking down at the defeated Luke. He then turned his gaze to Molotok, "As for you, Mister Molotok. I'd like to make a little bet with you, vagabundo. I bet I can end your life with one move."

Molotok and Alhambra grinned the same smile of mischief. "I'll take that bet." Said Molotok, charging against Alhambra. Alhambra shuffled his deck one last time, and when Molotok stood mere inches before him, about to deliver the killing blow, Alhambra stretched out his arm and unleashed the combined might of his entire deck, deployed at once. A barrage of explosions blew apart the limbs, body and flesh of Molotok, almost stripping him entirely to the bone. He collapsed backwards as Alhambra approached him with a single joker in his hand. "Before the year's end, you'll be the one without blood to shed." He grinned one final time.

"I don't believe much in prophecies." Said Alhambra, flicking his joker at Molotok, beheading him. Alhambra put his hands in the pockets of his suits and walked away very calmly, watching as the battle screeched to a halt down below, as no more than three Warriors of Nikolai stood over a mountain of corpses of Russian soldiers. Zorin's scythe finished them all in a single swipe. She looked back at Alhambra and nodded.

Alhambra stretched out both of his arms, and from his sleeves, thousands of cards poured out in a flying stream that crossed the burning houses of Moscow, the collapsed buildings, the dead soldiers, the fires raising high in every part of the city, the wreckage, it crossed them all, clashing against the Cathedral of St. Basil and all of Kremlin, consuming them all in a series of bombastic, fiery explosions.

Alhambra jumped off the building as Zorin approached him, alongside a severely-bleeding Rip Van Winkle and a nearly dead Jan Valentine.

"Why not leave them to die? They're useless anyway." Alhambra inquired.

"Orders from the Major. They'll be required later." Zorin answered calmly, breathing out smoke.

Behind them Luke Valentine stood back up, heavily damaged but still very much alive. He joined them.

"Ah, Valentine! I see you are still alive! You sadly did not show me how a true Vampire kills. Perhaps another time, then?" Alhambra chuckled maliciously and mockingly at him. Luke Valentine chose to ignore him and the three still standing took a slow walk

The five took a slow walk towards the zeppelin. Some of them wounded, but still alive, as the once glorious, now fiery and set ablaze Kremlin collapsed into ashes and rubble behind them. They returned to the zeppelin and prepared to take flight, when a single man came out and screamed at them. Alhambra could recognize in him a Millennium sleeper agent, the Minister of Defense.

"What am I supposed to do here?" He asked in despair. "You've burned Moscow!"

"I don't know." Shrugged Alhambra, "Say that the Warriors of Nikolai rebelled alongside a few regiments and decided to destroy Russia in some suicide pact of some sort. You are probably the last survivor of the entire Kremlin government, it shouldn't be hard. And you probably got a promotion!" Alhambra left him with those words, chuckling to himself with the same mischievous grin.

The zeppelin took flight. Operation Barbarossa's Vendetta was complete.

…

Vatican, Rome.

Maxwell looked at a newspaper with incendiary headlines and a picture of the burning Kremlin: "Russia Ablaze! Country terrorized by an armed rebellion led by the Warriors of Nikolai!". He read the news calmly, thinking to himself.

"I am certain Millennium's behind it, Maxwell." Said Father Anderson in a worried tone. "We must act now."

"Nonsense! Don't be such a fool, Anderson, Millennium doesn't have the firepower required to do this!" Maxwell laughed, "And besides, even if Millennium was behind all of this, Russians are heretics, this massacre is nothing but God's scourge for them!" He said in a fanatical tone as his eyes expanded.

Father Anderson reluctantly accepted that comment and answered "Yes, sir." Despite his deepest feelings, he remained loyal to the hierarchy, and could do nothing about it. At least for the moment.

…

The Major laughed in his steel throne, extremely pleased and overjoyed with the display of strength provided by the five soldiers. "Operation Barbarossa's Vendetta is a smashing success! At long last, after fifty years, the Russian dogs have been subjugated, crushed, burned and slaughtered! In a single night I accomplished what mein Fuhrer could not in the entire war: Destroy the Russian spirit in a monument to the German might!"

"Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!" Screamed his soldiers, with the five standing in front of them, all very pleased with themselves.

"The five of you have exceeded even my wildest expectations." The Major once again clasped his hands, smiling widely. "Such an act of bravery and prowess in battle should be widely praised within our ranks!" He clapped excitedly at the thought.

"But, remember this was but a war game for the real war about to come. And before the spoils of war can be reaped, the five of you must participate in the final struggle, the final storm that will take England and smash it to pieces!" The Major stood up, crossing his arms behind his back.

"Alhambra, return to Brazil and await for further instructions." He ordered Alhambra.

He took a bow and left the room. "Valentines, you must both go to England with a strike force and also await for further instructions." Luke bowed as well and left the room, while Jan simply nodded and smiled maniacally. "Rip Van Winkle, for now you will stay here, but I will need you soon for a mission in the far sea. Zorin Blitz you will be in stand by, for the moment." They both paid continence.

And so the five, who operated as a team for a single night were separated, never to join forces again. It was a one night, one act play of death and murder. Now the closing act of their lives was approaching.

The Major's symphony of death, however, was merely beginning.


End file.
